


Memento Mori

by inspirante



Series: Of the Nine Hostages [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Baby Logic | Logan Sanders, Character Death, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Depression, F/M, Gen, Kid Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Kid Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Kid Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Kid Deceit | Janus Sanders, Kid Dr. Emile Picani, Kid Sides (Sanders Sides), Kid Sleep | Remy Sanders, Name Changes, Sad, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspirante/pseuds/inspirante
Summary: The O’Neill household was brimming with energy on a nice summer day. The twins were nearly bouncing off the walls in excitement, Emile had been chattering non stop about what cartoons he could show to the new baby, Remy was smirking, lamenting about how knowledgeable he was in having new additions to the family, and Virgil was pacing a hole into the carpet.Janus wouldn’t have it any other way.-----Or, how Janus became Dee.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Dr Emile Picani, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders
Series: Of the Nine Hostages [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540825
Comments: 23
Kudos: 87





	Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> The seventh and final installment of LoLA Week of OneShots!!
> 
> This prompt came from:
> 
> Leo (Leo_Lynn on AO3) - maybe the day of their dad died o_o (I either go for the fluffiest of t he angstiest i have no midrange)
> 
> Des (Desolate_Smog on AO3) - I would like to see what their family was like before their dad died maybe?
> 
> Alexei - Maybe a little bit of the aftermath of their dad's death?
> 
> Filafox_143 (AO3) - Oooo i really want to see how they live after their dad died.
> 
> For reference for the characters ages:
> 
> Dee (12) Virgil (11) Remy (9) Emile (5) Twins (3)
> 
> **I highly recommend reading this OneShot as it goes into some backstory that won't be as explored in depth as in the main story.

The O’Neill household was brimming with energy on a nice summer day. The twins were nearly bouncing off the walls in excitement, Emile had been chattering non stop about what cartoons he could show to the new baby, Remy was smirking, lamenting about how knowledgeable he was in having new additions to the family, and Virgil was pacing a hole into the carpet.

Janus wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mom had been on bedrest the past few days after there was a scare when she tripped, and her hip hit the corner of the table. Her due date was only a few days away and they had to repeatedly tell the twins to be gentle around her. Mom hissed in pain at the impact and had to sit for a while but seemed relatively okay. Dad, bless his heart, had freaked over the little injury and wrung his hands as he tried to convince her to go to the hospital. She exasperatedly agreed but the smile of pure adoration on her face told Janus she didn’t really mind if she was doing it for her husband.

“When you see me again, I’ll be twenty pounds lighter.” She had joked before kissing Janus’ forehead and walking out the door.

“You’re in charge, bud.” Dad had ruffled his hair with a nervous grin, the old hospital bag slung across his shoulders. He was quick to offer an arm to his wife as they walked to the vehicle; an ugly thing, in Janus’ opinion, with over fifty bumper stickers and cliché dice blocks hanging on the rear-view mirror.

Janus had made sure to lock the door behind them, as any responsible older brother would, before declaring a movie night and getting everyone into pajamas.

But that had been a few days ago. Of course, Dad had came back to the house to check on them and sleep, his phone on his bedside table as he awaited the call that would tell him his wife was in labour. Even though there had been bags under his eyes the next morning, he was up with Emile to make pancakes, greeting every child with a bright grin as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes. He spent the first half of the day preparing everyone to go visit Mom in the hospital before they finally left. She was happy to see them all, kissing their cheeks in greeting as they approached her bed. They were able to visit for almost an hour before the twins were getting too antsy to stay in the small room any longer.

Dad had left the house in the morning six hours ago, after receiving a call from the hospital that his newest child was almost ready to be born. Since then, Janus had prepared lunch, vacuumed the living room, washed the dishes, and made his bed. The rest of his brothers, after cleaning their rooms, had settled down on the kitchen floor with the air conditioner on and a white, paper banner spread between them.

It had been Virgil’s idea to make a banner for Emile’s birth and the brothers had since made one for every child brought home. Roman and Remus were ecstatic they would be able to contribute to this tradition and pledged to do their _bestest_.

Emile had immediately grabbed the blue paint, recreating his favourite tiny villagers in the corner of the banner. Virgil had gotten to work on the letters, meticulously spelling out the words _‘Welcome Home, Logan’_ to ensure they were able to fit on the paper. Remus had wasted no time in dipping his hands in the red and green paint respectively and leaving his handprints behind. Roman was quick to follow suit, dipping his hands in the same colours and pressing his hands down above his brothers and upside down. Remy had begun making polka dots in the corners, his face relaxed as he did so but Janus could tell he was scared of messing up the banner.

Janus had watched from afar, a soft smile on his face as Remy brushed Emile’s nose with a painted fingertip. Emile went cross eyed for a second before grinning and lunging to get Remy back. Virgil, ever the vigilant one, had yanked the paint tray out of Emile’s path before he could spill it all over the banner, his eyes never leaving the paper as he traced out the letters.

Janus glanced on the kitchen counter where the home phone stood in its stand. Dad had always called from the hospital when the baby had been born, his voice betraying that he had been crying, even when they stayed at home with a babysitter. It had to be anytime now, surely.

Janus had been staring at the phone for so long that he jumped when Virgil nudged his leg.

“Aren’t you going to help?” He asked, reaching out a paintbrush.

Janus eyed the phone one more time before kneeling on the ground and dipping his paint into the yellow. He hummed in thought before deciding on painting a pineapple in one of the few remaining empty spaces on the banner. Virgil gave him a nod at his choice before returning to the letters.

“Ahhhhhh!” Remus screeched before pouncing on his brother.

Janus sighed, already expecting to see both twins covered head to toe in paint. He put his brush to the side and stood to separate the two _(and also give them a bath)_.

Janus soon forgot all about the phone call he was waiting for.

* * *

It wasn’t until the next morning that Janus realized they never received a call.

He had checked the phone when he had got up, assuming he had slept through the call and missed it, but there were no missed calls on the receiver. He then dialed Dad’s cell number, only for it to immediately go to voice mail.

Well, Dad usually got emotional when a new kid joined the family so maybe he got really tired and forgot? Yeah, probably.

Janus didn’t waste anytime preparing bowls of cereal for his brother’s. All of them ate slowly, eyeing the now dried banner still laying on the floor in the kitchen. They could probably feel the tension radiating from the oldest O’Neill and Janus could not let that stand.

“Who wants to play soccer outside?”

The twins instantly perked up, shovelling their cereal into their mouths like savaged beasts. Janus had to reprimand them for getting most of their food on themselves rather than in their mouth and they shamelessly apologized. Janus pinched the bridge of his nose, but it was more just to be dramatic then actual frustration.

The family made their way to the backyard and set up two goal posts with their shoes. They split the teams evenly: Janus and Virgil were on separate teams, Emile and Remy were on separate teams, and Roman and Remus were on separate teams.

Remy, Janus, and Remus quickly stripped off their shirts to differentiate the teams. Virgil was nervously bouncing on his toes and Janus shot him a challenging smirk, which was instantly returned.

“ _Charge!_ ” Emile shouted and the game began.

Everyone immediately ran towards the ball. Remy reached it first and gently kicked the ball to Remus. The smaller boy instantly tripped over it but was quick to jump back to his feet with a feral grin.

“Got it!” He yelled, chasing after Virgil who had possession of the ball.

Virgil passed it to Emile, who was able to kick it between the two shoes. The trio cheered as they returned to their side of the yard and Janus retrieved the ball.

No one was really keeping score. There was a lot of screeching and laughter as the boys ran across the yard. Roman had stopped numerous times to pick up dandelions and Remus had been jumping onto Janus’ back at every opportunity. Janus took great joy in spinning the toddler around, hearing his giggles had lighted his mood instantly.

The sound of a car engine hit Janus’ ears. It didn’t sound like the family vehicle and Janus was immediately on edge. Virgil shot him a startled look.

“Hey, kids. Let’s go inside.”

Instantaneous whining responded to his order from the twins, but Virgil was quick to usher them inside. He left them in the living room at the back of the house while he went to look out the front window. He was quick to spot a white car he had never seen before but was confused when the sight of Mom and a swaddled baby exited the vehicle.

Janus ran to the front door and threw it open, jumping down the porch stairs towards Mom. She looked exhausted and like she had been crying. Her arms were trembling with little Logan in her hold and Janus took him into his own arms. The little boy slept on and Janus was once again mesmerized by the sheer size of a newborn baby.

“Mom?” He asked, his voice a lot weaker than he thought it would sound.

A million questions swirled in his mind. _What was wrong? Where was Dad? Did something happen? Who was driving the white car? What-_

“Janus.” Mom’s voice trembled and Janus focused his entire attention on her.

“Where’s Dad?” Janus asked, because that was the most jarring thing right now.

A heart wrenching sob escaped from her mouth and she curled in on herself, a hand over her mouth. Alarmed, Janus stepped forward helplessly, wanting to offer a hand or something to her but his arms were full of the new baby.

The next few hours were a blur. Somehow, they made their way to the couch in the living room. Mom had a cup of tea in her trembling hands and a blanket draped over her shoulders. At some point Janus must have handed Logan off to Virgil as his brother and the baby were no longer in sight.

Mom had sent the other kids upstairs to their room to tell Janus what had happened. The two sat shoulder to shoulder, stuttered breaths filling the tension between them.

He. . . couldn’t believe it. Dad couldn’t really be. . . It just didn’t make sense. These kinds of things only happened in the news or in movies or in those stupid commercials that always ran during the winter holidays or in stories during the yearly assembly when a police officer came in to talk about drunk driving.

Dad couldn’t be. . . _dead_.

Janus could feel how dry his throat was after listening to his mother. He hadn’t spoken the entire time. He barely registered her talking about funeral plans and how busy she would be over the next few months getting everything together. However, there was one thing to jolt him out of his shock.

“I need you to tell your brothers.”

He. . . he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t bare to see the lost look in their eyes as he explained what happened or keep it together while telling the actual story. He couldn’t tell Virgil, who would no doubt drop into a panic attack _because this was the absolute worst-case scenario life could throw at them._ He couldn’t tell Remy, who would clench his fists so tight that his fingernails would draw blood _and he might throw something and scream and cry because he’s just a nine year old kid with too many emotions in his body._ He couldn’t tell Emile, who would _instantly dissolve into tears while clutching a Mario plushie to his chest._ He couldn’t tell Roman and Remus, who would both not be able to understand why Dad would never come home _and ask a million and one questions Janus would not have a_ clue _to answer._

But then he looked at Mom. The bags under her eyes were darker than he had ever seen, and he couldn’t look away from seeing the despair and desperation in her eyes. So, well, he could do this one thing for her.

After Mom had retreated to her office to make some calls, Janus had gathered all of the kids in the living room. Virgil had Logan cradled in his arms, the twins _ooing_ and _aahing_ over his tiny form. Emile was beside them, watching in wonder as the tiny baby breathed slowly. Remy had obviously noticed Janus’ bloodshot eyes and was warily looking between his oldest brother and the ground.

“So. . .” Janus began but instantly stopped. His voice was scratchy, and he internally winced at the feeling in his throat.

All of his siblings had their undivided attention on him, and Janus felt his already broken heart shatter just a bit more.

“There was an accident.” Janus decided that the best way to start the conversation was leading with a fact. Virgil instantly froze up, his shoulders hunched and eyes wide in worry. Janus continued on. “Dad w-was hurt _really_ bad and. . . he won’t be coming home.” He glanced at Remy and Virgil, hoping they knew what he was implying without him having to say it out loud.

_Saying it out loud would make it all the more real._

“Why. . . Why isn’t Daddy comin’ home?” Emile asked, eyes already filling up with tears.

Janus hissed between his teeth as the twins also shot him curious looks. Virgil was clutching Logan to his chest; eyes dim and shoulders shaking. Remy was glaring at the ground, fingernails digging into his white palms.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Remy asked and Janus could only nod in response.

“Dead?” Roman asked.

“Wath dat?” Remus chimed in after, chewing on his shirt.

Janus bit his lip and knelt in front of the three youngest O’Neill’s. He had no idea what to do. His feelings were all over the place and he wanted to cry but he can’t because he has six little brothers to look after and he’s just _so lost_.

“Well, everything that lives, one day d-dies. When someone dies, their body stops working; they d-don’t need to eat, drink, or b-b-breathe anymore.”

“Like sleeping?” Emile sobbed and God, Janus wished it was so.

“No, not. . . _no_. It’s not like sleeping. Once someone dies. . . they are dead for-forever and cannot come back.” Janus pushed past the tears steadily forming in his eyes. “Dad g-got really hurt while d-d-driving and now. . .” Janus took a deep, shuddering breath as he closed his eyes. “He’s _dead_.”

He gathered the three in for a hug. Emile sobbed earnestly into his shoulder while the twins remained still. Remy knelt down on the ground to hug the three from the other side. Virgil had unsteadily got to his feet and lowered himself to the floor beside Janus and leaned against him with sleeping Logan in his arms. 

* * *

The next few days were the hardest days Janus had ever had to live.

Mom was tucked away in her office, constantly on the phone with various people. She had called their schools to let them know her children would not be coming in this week but that was the only time Janus saw her.

He and Virgil quickly realized they needed to figure out how to feed the kids and keep them entertained. Janus had to order Virgil out of the kitchen to watch the kids after he spilt something on the ground for the tenth consecutive time.

Janus had only vague ideas of how to cook. D. . . Dad was the one who made their meals and while he had taught Janus some things, there was a lot of room for improvement. The first breakfast they had that Janus was in charge of, there was burnt scrambled eggs on everyone’s plate. Emile, the absolute _sweetheart_ , picked at the food but still ate it, telling Janus it was very good. The twins, however, instantly turned their noses up and demanded he make Dad’s special pancakes, which he could very _obviously not_ deliver on.

Remy did not comment.

The twins had been unresponsive to any of the brothers. They had begged Janus to trade Logan back for Dad and threw themselves onto the ground and cried and Janus _oh so desperately_ wanted to join them. But he was the man of the house now and he had to be responsible.

He didn’t have time to cry or break down. He hugged his brothers as they sobbed for Dad and made them meals and played with them and took them away from Mom’s office. He got up early and stayed up late, so the house was in order and he answered the door to their neighbours and gracefully accepted every pastry and dish they brought to their doorstep, internally sobbing in relief as this would be just one less meal he would need to make. He turned the news off every time it ran, not wanting his siblings to see the headline _“Millionaire Lawyer O’Neill’s Husband Dies in Tragic Accident”_.

When the day of the funeral finally came, he did not cry until the end. He held it together on the ride there, rubbing circles on the back of Mom’s hand as she cried and tried desperately to keep her makeup intact. He held it together during the ceremony, squeezing Virgil’s hand in his own while Remus sat on his lap. He held it together as everyone gave their condolences and he stood beside Mom; head held high with Roman’s face buried in the crook of his neck. He held it together as they lowered him in the ground, an arm wrapped around Remy’s shoulders and Emile’s nose painfully digging into his thigh.

It wasn’t until everyone had left the cemetery and Janus asked for a moment alone that he finally let the tears fall. At some point his knees hit the ground and he was holding onto the grave for stability. Even with his eyes blurry, he could clearly see in his mind what the tombstone read:

_Here Lies_

_Daghan “Dee” O’Neill_

_A Father, A Husband, and a Good-Hearted Person to All_

He can’t do this. He can’t do this. He _can’t_. . .

He _can’t_ raise the kids properly. He _can’t_ wake up every morning with a smile. He _can’t_ ask the kids how their day was. He _can’t_ make breakfast or lunch or supper that tastes as good as it looks. He _can’t_ protect his siblings from the dangers of the world. He _can’t_ talk to Emile about cartoons or calm Virgil down from panic attacks. He _can’t_ give the twins piggyback rides or sing along to the greatest hits with Remy. He _can’t_ buy ice cream on the first day of school or sing happy birthday off-key as they blow out the candles or plan movie nights at the cinema. He _can’t_ watch Logan grow up, knowing he will be the person he looks up to. He _can’t_ do this.

He sobbed loudly and grossly. Snot was dripping down his chin and tears were seeping into the expensive tuxedo he was wearing. Dirt was surely staining his knees and his fingernails were caked in blood from griping the tombstone. His heart was beating wildly, and his head was pounding.

As he choked on another sob, he swore he could feel a hand on his shoulder.

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

He followed so blindly, keeping his eyes shut as his breath evened out.

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

Fingers were tapping on his shoulder to help him count, a constant and grounding presence he was thankful for.

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

When he reached up to grab the hand, there was nothing there.

He peeled open his eyes to look around, but no one was there.

Another wave of sorrow hit him like a wave, but he forced himself to breathe. He stayed on the ground for several moments.

That hand. . . that hand was _familiar_. Achingly so. Janus remembered all the times that hand had been on his shoulder when he wasn’t sure of himself. Every time he did poorly on a test or was struggling with homework, that hand had been there accompanied by a grin that told him everything would be okay.

_“Everything will be alright, kiddo.”_

Janus couldn’t do everything that Dad could. Janus Daghan O’Neill was a twelve-year-old boy who barely understood ratios and probability. Janus Daghan O’Neill was an elementary student who could only name thirty of the fifty states reliably. Janus Daghan O’Neill was an older brother who was more likely to hold you back with a hand on your face than offer you the television remote.

But Dad could.

Janus rubbed the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath.

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

So, Dee can.


End file.
